


Call it Lack of Confidence

by JamesAeza



Series: Prinxiety fics that just kinda happen sometimes [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Caring Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Sad, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesAeza/pseuds/JamesAeza
Summary: Roman is not faring well after a particularly pointed insult from the snake-man.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: Prinxiety fics that just kinda happen sometimes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880233
Comments: 13
Kudos: 156





	Call it Lack of Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> It's the middle of the night, have some angst kind sirs, madams and others. Possibly kinda OOC but I hope you likey.  
> (Also, I'm back with another title from Can't Stand Losing You by The Police. Sorry about that.)

Virgil sighed as he prepared himself to knock. He’d been the one chosen to retrieve Roman, seeing as he was the only one Roman didn’t actively hate and who hadn’t antagonized him recently. He didn’t really want to deal with an emotionally compromised prince, but he did know that he was currently the best man for the job. They’d given him a few days to stew, but now they needed to talk. He steeled himself as he lifted his fist and knocked. 

What he saw was not at all what he had expected. He’d assumed to see Roman looking a little tired, maybe a little sadder, clothes wrinkled, but this clearly indicated that it was even worse than anyone had thought. 

Roman was dressed in a red hoodie and black sweats. Virgil had never, not once in his entire life, seen Roman without that prince costume on. Plus, he adamantly refused to wear anything black. Apparently, the things said had taken more of a toll on him than anyone wanted to think. 

Virgil started in carefully, unsure how to approach the matter. “Hey, Roman, buddy-”

Roman interrupted him with an eye roll. “Cut the dramatics, V. What do you want?”

Virgil did a double take upon not hearing an offensive nickname, but quickly returned his focus to what was really important. “I just wanted to check in on you, see how you’re holding up.”

Roman sighed, and somehow he looked years younger as he slouched against the doorway. “Patton put you up to this, didn’t he.” Not a question, they both knew what was true.

Virgil didn’t like lying, and he didn’t want to unintentionally call De- Janus, he could call him Janus now. So he admitted to it fairly quickly, though he chose his words as not to scare Roman off. 

“We’re all concerned, we just didn’t want to overwhelm you. Really, I just want to talk, and if there’s something you don’t want me to report to the others, I’ll respect that.” Roman seemed to consider the offer for a moment before swinging the door all the way open in a silent invitation. Virgil knew that deep down, he wanted more than anything to spill his guts to someone. Anyone, really. Virgil knew how much of a release it was for Roman. 

Roman settled himself sitting on the bed and Virgil, not wanting to intrude, situated himself on the floor. He stayed silent a moment, waiting for Roman to feel comfortable enough to start talking. He was relieved when he heard the other’s voice pierce the silence. 

“I really thought I was doing the right thing.”

“We all did. Patton threw everyone off, including himself. He’s trying his best. So is everyone else. You don’t need to dwell on guilt.”

“I  _ laughed  _ at him, V. I… I said some horrible stuff. I don’t know if I can forgive myself. And this might make me a bad person, but I don’t know if I can forgive him, either. And that might be more my problem than his, my ego’s hurt, and I want it to be his fault- anyone’s but mine.”

Roman looked just as shocked as Virgil did from the rough confession. “I- I’m sorry, I-”

Virgil cut him off. “You don’t have to be sorry. This is important stuff, let it out.”

Roman nodded mutely. He looked to be on the edge of tears, too proud to let them fall. Virgil slowly reached for his hand, but pulled back when Roman immediately yanked it away. 

“Whoa, you good?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Roman, after fiddling with his sleeve a bit, accepted the hand that Virgil was once again offering. As Virgil took it, though, he deftly yanked up the sleeve of the hoodie. Roman yelped, whether in pain or shock Virgil wasn’t sure as his suspicions were confirmed. Fresh red lines and gashes, some still sticky, and little circles, burns from a cigarette lighter. 

Virgil took a deep breath, trying to imagine how he’d want someone to react had the roles been reversed, but his mind was just pulling a blank. He quickly released Roman, who mumbled something unintelligible before replacing his sleeve, covering the evidence. Evidence that Virgil was already all too aware of. 

“Have you cleaned those?” Was the burning question, and thus the first one Virgil asked. The ‘no’ was muffled and quiet, but all too clear. 

“Can I clean them for you?” He asked softly.

“No! No, it’s fine, I’ll just… do it later.”

From the tone, it was evident that he was not going to do it later. Virgil stepped in, offering two options. “Either I can do it, or you can do it  _ now.  _ Those could get infected, and I don’t need that on my head.”

Roman sighed, stumbling to his feet. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. I won’t be a minute,” he said as he started to disappear into the bathroom. 

Virgil knew Roman, well, and that was why he did what he did next. Placing his foot in the doorway, he secured eye contact with the prince. He knew that Roman would like nothing more than to let Virgil take care of him, but he was embarrassed and didn’t want to ask that of him. “Please, let me do it,” he suggested. “It’s harder to do on yourself. Besides, I  _ want  _ to.”

The response was so quiet it almost wasn’t there. “Okay.”

As Virgil worked on a mildly uncomfortable Roman, he asked the question he’d been wondering about since the beginning of this interaction. “Where’s the costume?”

The fact that Roman didn’t get worked up about his outfit being called a ‘costume’ was the first red flag. “In the wash.”

He hadn’t even been trying with that excuse. Everyone was fully aware he had more than one set, as well as the fact that the clothes didn’t really need to be put through an actual washer. 

“Try again, maybe the truth this time. I’ve got all day.”

Roman sighed, though he didn’t seem surprised that Virgil was pressing the topic. “I just didn’t want to wear it.”

“And why not?” Virgil prodded gently as he cleaned out a particularly bad spot, eliciting a quiet whimper. 

“Because,” he began slowly, “because I… I’m not a prince.”

That threw Virgil for a loop, Roman would never have openly stated such a thing. “And… what makes you say that?”

Roman laughed then, a sad, rueful laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m not… princely. I was horrible and careless. And anyway, I can’t be a prince. It’s delusional. It was only feeding my ego, and I think we all know that’s big enough already.”

Virgil finished the last bandage as Roman ended his horribly depressing confession. 

“Roman, you know that-”

“ _ No. _ ” Virgil was shocked by how forceful he sounded. “Don’t encourage it, V.”

“But-”

“I said no! Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it!”

“But Roman,” the words were out before Roman could interrupt again, “you’re  _ my  _ prince.”

“I… what?” The normally taller and louder side suddenly looked very, very small. 

To be fair, Virgil wasn’t exactly sure where the words had come from, either. But once they were out, he knew he wouldn’t take them back for the world.

Taking advantage of Roman’s distractedness, he pulled the sweater over his head, leaving his chest bare. Roman yelped, either from the cold or from the fact that he was now half-naked and Virgil was  _ right there _ . 

Virgil quickly posed his request. “Would you please put the outfit back on? It’s throwing me off.”

Roman shrugged. “I dunno. I think it would make me feel silly.”

“Okay…” Virgil’s brain quickly went into overdrive, trying to imagine a way to boost the prince’s confidence. “Alright then,” he decided. He then deftly yanked off his own hoodie and t-shirt, which he had on a confused Roman very quickly. “ _ I’ll  _ wear the prince costume. To show you how awesome it is. How awesome  _ you  _ are.”

Roman looked completely frozen as Virgil led him back into his room, opening up a drawer and pulling out one of his tops before slipping it on. “Ooh, it’s soft,” he giggled, and damn if Virgil giggling wasn’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He was almost glad he’d gone through this whole endeavor if it meant he got to see  _ that _ . Plus his shirt being a little too big on Virgil, who was smaller than him, was almost precious enough to pull him out of this funk.

This time, as Virgil captured his hand, he didn’t hesitate. He allowed himself to be led out of the room, drying his tear tracks on Virgil’s sweater sleeves. 

“Let’s go talk to the others, yeah? They want to help as much as I do.”

Roman nodded. He believed him. Right now, he would have believed just about anything Virgil said, even if he’d stated that the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs. 

**Author's Note:**

> I eat comments, feeding the wild author is permitted and encouraged.


End file.
